


the sheets are stained with blood

by hwangbyul



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020), DC Extended Universe
Genre: Age Difference, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Daddy Kink, F/F, F/M, Hinted Stalking, M/M, Mentions of Murder, Obsessive Victor Zsasz, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Slight enemies to lovers, Smut, Spanking, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, alternatively: enemies with benefits to lovers, helena is a raging lesbian, helena is chaotic lesbian, reader is a witch-y metahuman, reader is a wonder woman rogue, reader is chaotic neutral, reader is in early to mid 20s, reader is thriving off of one brain cell, serial killer zsasz, set a few months after bop, zsasz has a praise kink, zsasz is bi, zsasz is chaotic bad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22748983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hwangbyul/pseuds/hwangbyul
Summary: Victor Zsasz was meant to protect Roman. And now, because of Harley Quinn and the Birds of Prey, Roman is dead and Zsasz snaps. With his knife and twisted urge, he quickly becomes a feared killer on Gotham's Most Wanted list. And then he joins in on a heist and meets you.
Relationships: Helena Bertinelli/Original Female Character(s), Helena Bertinelli/Reader, Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz, Victor Zsasz/Original Female Character(s), Victor Zsasz/Reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 140





	1. Chapter 1

The TV plays the latest news report as you stuff a spoon of cereal into your mouth. The reporter stands in front of some nightclub near the city reporting on yet another death by stabbing. 

"... she was found in the back alley of the nightclub last night, her body purposefully positioned in a life-like stance. Due to CCTV evidence from the previous stabbing murder, the Gotham police are suspecting ex-businessman Victor Zsasz to be the wicked man behind these crimes..." An image transitions onto the screen, showing a low quality image of a man with almost paper white hair and dark bags under his eyes. The reporter continues to drone on about the twisted results from the autopsy report.

"Yikes," you say to yourself before you grab the remote from the coffee table and switch to another channel playing reruns of _Martin_

You came to Gotham a few months back since Wonder Woman never let you have any fun in Boston, even though she's currently stationed all the way in London. You assume you’ll be able to keep away from the Bat's radar while he’s busy dealing with psycho clowns and knife-wielding serial killers. 

A soft _ping_ rings from your phone and you glance at the screen. _Shipment's called off_ is all the text on your lockscreen reads. It's from an unknown number, but you know that it's another henchmen of the crime boss you’re working with for the time being. Putting down the bowl of cereal, you pick the cell up and tap in three letters before pressing send: _Why_. 

It only takes a moment for you to get a reply. _Got reports of the Birds of Prey being in the area. Better safe than sorry._

“ _Fuck_ ,” you curse and throw your head back in aguish. You were relying on the cash you’d get from the heist for rent. 

The phone dinged again. _Meeting at the mansion to re-work the plan. In an hour, be there on time bruja_ , the new message reads. 

Great. You thought all you were going to to tonight was show up at the docks, use your powers a bit, and run off with your share of the money. But _no_. God forbid you get your way for once. 

With an annoyed groan, you force yourself off the couch and into your bedroom. You kick off your plaid pajama jogger as you push open the door. Your closet is over piled with clothes and you immediately regret not picking out an outfit earlier. You are a strong believer of wearing revealing outfits for yourself, and the amount of bodycon dresses you want to wear was overwhelming. Then you remember it’s winter and inches of snow are already forming outside.

_To be a hoe or to care about your well-being._ It is a conflicting life that you live.

~ ~ ~

You decided to go for a pair of black cargo pants and a turtleneck. The weather won this round. The mansion’s already filled as you park your car based on the amount of luxury vehicles filling the house's driveway. You hated working in big groups- it only led to problems. But, you’re down to do anything for the amount of checks you would be cashing with this entire heist.

Two burly men guard the front door of the mansion. One of them smirks as he watches you approach. 

“Look, it’s the witch,” he tells the other and you roll your eyes. “Where’s your flying broom?” He teases.

“Shut the fuck up,” you mutter as you pass the two, pushing the heavy doors with a grunt.

The other guard laughs at your reply. “Careful, Hermione. It’s all fun and games until Wonder Woman comes and drags you out of Gotham.”

You don’t bother to look back as you retort “It’s all fun and games ‘til I cast a spell that leaves you two without your dicks tomorrow morning.” The silence as you continue down the dark hallway tells you they stopped smiling. 

Are you actually going to bewitch their genitals away? No. But most people knew better than to assume you wouldn’t. 

The corridor is dark, tinted red by the only source of light- an open set of doors leading into a grand meeting room. Expensive pottery and paintings lined against the walls of the mansion, all what you’d expect from Hernando del Rey.

Originally, you actually meant it when you decided to lay low in Gotham. You’d find a nice apartment, steal from the rich, and stay off the news until the end of time.

Then, you were contacted by Hernando del Rey, a Venezuelan crime boss straight out of a mob movie. Though you’re not necessarily a _bad_ person- you define yourself as a chaotic neutral- you are dangerous. Del Rey wanted your powers, and you wanted the money- so here you are now.

You shove your hands into your pockets and swagger into the open doors. A group of about 20 people, men, women, and all those in between, sit at a long table. Some of the faces you recognize, either from previous meetings you’ve had with del Rey or from news reports. 

One such face belongs to none other than Victor Zsasz. He immediately stands out from the others with his snowy hair and scruffy beard. He also looks like he hadn’t slept in days, so there’s that. Plus, ever since the CCTV recording of him at the last stabbing was leaked, his face is all you saw on the news.

His tired eyes watch you as you enter the room. You can’t tell if he’s giving you bedroom eyes or staring you down like a predator does a prey. Quite frankly, you aren’t in the mood to find out.

“My bruja!” del Rey, who made his seat at the end of the table, cheers when he sees your face. “The most important member of my team!” 

You stretch your lips into an awkward smile “Hi.” 

“Please take a seat.” Hernando motion towards the table. “Then we’ll begin.” You glance over in the direction of all the seated guests. Powers or not, way too many of them look like they wouldn’t mind killing you.

“I’m fine standing, thanks.”

Hernando shrugs and begins lecturing about the game plan with the new threat of the Birds of Prey. You only pay half of your attention, catching a few words here and there. You never listen carefully at times like this, since your job is usually to just show up, cast some hexes and head out.

“I didn’t know they let witches in on heists.” You look down and see Victor Zsasz in front of you. His head is leaning back, since he sits facing away from you. Now that you are closer to him, you can see his features more clearly. From the silver teen in his mouth, to his token scars that cover his body- the nastiest being one on his neck that you assume wasn’t given to him voluntarily. 

You bend down slightly so you can whisper in his ear, “I didn’t know they let mass murderers in on them, either.” He scoffs and straightens his neck and you straighten your back.

“-Y/N and Victor Zsasz will be the ones going to Hyunwoo Kim’s estate tomorrow.”

_Yikes_. 

“I’m sorry, why do _I_ get put with him?” You confront the boss. “I don’t think our attributes really compliment each other, to be honest.”

Hernando del Rey sighs, like an annoyed parent dealing with a bratty child. “Zsasz will be doing all the work, Y/N. You’re only there to make sure he doesn’t act out. If he does, just use your brujeria to kill him.”

The inside of your cheek starts to bleed due to how hard you bite it to refrain from arguing any further. You’ve never seen del Rey angry and you want to make sure to keep it that way. 

From the corner of your eye you see Zsasz is back to looking at you. The wicked smile he wears tells you that this wouldn’t be any good.

~ ~ ~

A tired sigh leaves your mouth as you enter your apartment. The lights are off, just like you left it. It’s pitch black, leaving you blind against the darkness.

You begin to take off your pair of Doc Martens when you can’t help but notice the energy is off. The voice in your head yells that you are not alone. Immediately, you begin to mumble a Haitian spell you learned while in Port-au-Prince once summer- one that allows you to find a foe before they find you. 

You’re not even halfway through the first line when a strong force pushes against you and your neck is pricked by a sharp object. Using your elbow, you hit the lightswitch. 

The lights flicker on, revealing Victor Zsasz staring at you with the same look from earlier.

“Hello, witch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was an idea i got after watching bird of prey last weekend bc victor zsasz hot and i wondered what would happen to zsasz if he survives after getting jumped by the birds of prey and finds out roman died. tbh this is just an excuse to write zsasz smut (even tho there isnt any smut this chapter lul) as well as publish my first work on here.


	2. Chapter 2

Victor’s knife digs deeper into your neck and you groan. His face isn’t an inch away from yours, his breath able to tickle your nose. 

“I’ve got a special place on my back for you, Night Hex,” Zsasz insists. You roll your eyes. People only started to call Night Hex after your first few encounters with Wonder Woman. It just so happened that they all occurred during the night, and now you’re stuck with that shit hole of a super villain name. 

You grab onto his arm and he instinctively tries to jerk it away, but your grip is tight as you chant “ _Mutanter et nos, mutanter et nos, mutanter et nos._ ” One of the first spells you ever learned- it allows you to swap positions with whoever is in your grasp.

In the blink of an eye, you are standing where Zsasz stood, holding his knife into his neck. For a second a look of shock and confusion crosses his face until that shit-eating grin returns. 

“ _Spooky_ ,” he mocks you.  
“I hate to rain on your parade, Mr. Zsasz, but I’m not in the mood to be another one of your slaughter animals.” You pull back, making sure to keep the weapon on you. “Maybe next time, though.”

He doesn’t move from the wall and you watch him watch you, waiting for him to say something. You two share a moment of silence, VIctor staring you down with hooded eyes.

You aren’t sure if you should get nervous right now. You could easily overpower him with one one of the plethora of spells you know. But, it’s not like you’re immortal or anything. All it takes is for him to grab the nearest sharp object to gut you- and you’re a goner. 

“Why the hell are you here?” You question and quickly add “And how the hell did you get into my apartment?” 

Again, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, you watch him reach into the back pockets of his dress pants and you immediately slam his knife into his shoulder before he can pull anything out. A small, but joyful smile forms on your lips as you stare down at him. Your strength is in your witchcraft, not weapons. When your instinct led you to shove the knife into Zsasz’s skin, you were only about 50% sure you were strong enough to actually hurt him. 

He looks up at you as he pulls the object out of him. “You didn’t even let me answer, bitch.” And then he tries to lunge at you. Again- you are a witch. Not a weaponmaster nor a body builder. From what you’ve heard about Zsasz, his strength is impressive for a normal human. One punch from him could knock you out. 

Since you started practicing your witchcraft after turning 18, you found out there were a lot of pros and cons that came with it. Pros are; with the right spell, potion, ritual, or object- you are capable of doing practically anything. Cons are; these things take time. So in cases where a psycho is attacking you with a knife, and you don’t have time to say a three-line spell, you have to act from the top of your head. Usually not the best idea.

And, in this scenario, as Zsasz’s hand’s only a little a couple of inches away from your face, your brain tells you to raise your leg and slam your foot on his groin as hard as you can. The chunky platform heels you’re wearing help with the effort. 

Victor stumbles back, dropping the knife to cup his crotch in pain. You lurch for the weapon the second it slips out of his hand and shove Zsasz to the ground, straddling chest as his back hits the floor to keep him from moving. 

Maybe dealing with Wonder Woman these past few years has its perks.

Holding the knife up in warning, you repeat yourself “What do you want, Victor?”

Again, he smiles. “So, you really don’t remember me, huh?” He, again, changed the subject. 

“ _What?_ ” You lowered your arm in confusion. “The fuck are you talking about?” A man like Victor Zsasz is not one you could forget. But, he doesn’t let it go.

“I mean, sure, it was a couple of years ago, but _c’mon_. I wasn’t that bad, was I?” He’s amused as he speaks. He knows the more ambiguity he says, the deeper he gets under your skin.

You watch him chuckle and narrow your eyes in thought. Admittedly, your history is a long and fanatical one. Maybe you did come across Zsasz one time or another.

It's when he continues his monologue that the bulb in your brain finally lights up. “What was the name they gave you? _Cosima_ or some shit?” 

You struggle to come up with a reply. Cosima? In the least cliche way; you haven’t heard that name in years. Victor laughs at the shocked look on your face. “You do remember!” He feigns appreciation.

Your parents never took too great of a liking to you. As they raised you and your twin sister, with the knowledge that only offspring becomes a witch, it was clear that they wanted that witch to be the latter, Talia. You couldn’t blame them, of course. You were a little shit, constantly hanging with the wrong crowds and causing chaos around the city. And then, you inherited the powers. They were angry about it. A month later Talia went missing. They became angrier.

Their favoritism never really bothered you, and you and your sister were actually quite close. You didn’t take your sister’s disappearance well. What started as you stealing a few things from the corner store as a kid turned into sex, drugs, high theft, and more. 

So, they kicked you out. For the first few months, you couch hopped from friend’s house to friend’s house. At this time, you had almost no experience with magic, so scamming your way through life using witchcraft wasn’t an option. Then, one of your friends proposed a job offer. She worked as a dancer at a gentlemen's club where there happened to be an opening. 

Workers also got free housing, so you took the friend on her offer. You never imagined that you’d work as a stripper, but at that point- you were desperate for anything. 

Rich men from all over the world came to the club, one of them being the rich Gotham entrepreneur Vikram Zsasz. He was well into his 40’s and brought with him a couple of employees for his company- as well as his 25 year old son, Victor Zsasz. 

It was so hard to draw a connection to the Victor who lays cackling on your hardwood floor to the fresh-faced young man who visited that day. He was a completely different person, you wouldn’t have ever remembered it was him had he not mentioned it. 

The younger Zsasz moved with energy and pride, like some arrogant frat boy. He was attractive, as he still is, with clear skin that lacked the tally marks that plague him now. When your boss escorted you and a few other girls to host the group of men, he was chugging a glass of scotch like juice, his platinum blonde hair styled in a messy side part. 

You remember his attention always being on you as you sat with the party. You never thought much of it since there was always men and women lusting over you while you danced. His eyes watched you with adoration, unlike the disturbing leers he gives you now.

You would have declined his offer when he asked you to spend the night with him had he been anyone else. But, he was hot and you were horny so you accepted.

He was equally as cocky in bed as he was at the gentlemen’s club. He kept telling you to “lay back and let him do all the work”, something you didn’t have a problem with since it wasn’t like you planned on doing shit anyway. He attacked your pussy like he hadn’t eaten in days. The feeling of his tongue swirling against your clit and his fingers deep inside of you had you pulling at his hair. 

When he inserted himself inside of you, you remember that he was rough. He took you from behind first and held you by your neck as he continuously ordered you to call him “Daddy” and praise his work on you. 

For about two hours, all that filled the hotel room were your moans, his groans and the sound of your skin slapping against each other. 

Your face warms and you feel yourself growing wet from the thought. You don’t even notice when he placed his hands on your thighs. 

“Guess I wasn’t so bad after all, witch.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you’re reminded that the Victor you’re straddling isn’t the boy from your memories. 

He’s an insane serial killer whose body count of corpses ascends over the Wayne Tower . A devil who lurks the streets of Gotham. One ready to take the lives of any that come too close to him, including you.

You push yourself off of him. “Don’t call me that, dickhead.” 

“What else should I call you? My little slut?” He sits up on his elbows and smiles when you roll your eyes. “Or maybe a fucking cocksucker? That’s what you are anyway-”

“If you’re not here to kill me, stop wasting my time,” you cut him off. He’s trying to get into your head, with his twisted teasing and reminders. You’re not in the mood for any of it. 

He glances at the stab wound on his shoulder. It wasn’t too deep, but his printed _Versace_ dress shirt is stained with blood. “What, you’re not gonna help with Daddy’s wounds?” He taunts you.

~ ~ ~

Zsasz moans in comfort as he slips into the bath. His arm was stiff since you actually did wrap his gash on his shoulder. You made sure you tied it too tight, so much so that it almost cut the circulation off his arms. But that didn’t matter. It’s the fact that you _did it_ that he cared so much about it.

He picks his phone from the pockets of his pants which he tossed on the bathroom floor while getting undressed. He opens the photo app and taps on an untitled folder. In it are images of you, ranging from low quality helicopter shots of your encounters with Wonder Woman to pictures he snapped of you from your apartment window without you knowing.

When he saw you that day at the club, he was immediately fascinated with your looks. When he returned to Gotham, you were all that took up his mind. He was obsessed, but he lost you. You were hours away, in the dangerous parts of Boston without anyone to watch over you. 

His parents died a few months after his encounter with you. After that, his depression led him to the gambling addiction where he lost it all to Oswald Cobblepot. He was ready to end it all when he met Roman. By then, he almost forgot about you until your face showed up on nationwide news one day as everyone dubbed you Wonder Woman’s new foe.

He zooms in on a photo he had taken of you in the shower. Your breasts were nearly in full view, if it wasn’t for the stupid fucking plant you had in there that blocked much of the window. Zsasz smiles.

He’s lost everything. He lost his parents in the car accident. He lost his fortune in the Gotham casino. He lost Roman to that _bitch_ , Harley Quinn. He’s lost everything. Everything except you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aand here is chapter two! thank you all for your interest so far, and sorry i haven't replied to any comments. school has me by my ass so i wasn't able to be too busy! also; side note- reader has a 'deep' background story that'll be touched upon in later chapters! the smut here is kinda half-assed, but the story is a bit slow burn but like not as slow. like below average burn.  
>  also, as an afro latina i'm not mentioning anything that might indicate a certain race when describing the reader's appearance. nothing turns me off a fic like reading "your skin turned red", "you were from germany", "you are the younger sister of *insert white character here*" jsdkdklasdkl. i'm saying this because i was originally gonna have the reader practice a specific kind of witchcraft, like vodou or santeria. though nobody has to be a specific race to practice these types, just out of respect for everyone i'm gonna have the reader practice a general blend of everything. feel free to imagine the reader to practice a specific kind, though!  
> again thanks so much for your interest so far!!


	3. Chapter 3

You hold back a gag as Hyunwoo lets out a gut wrenching scream. Your only job today is to keep an eye on Victor, something you thought would be cake. But, it’s turning out to be a bit more difficult than you imagined. 

“ _Answer the fucking question!_ ” Zsasz yells into the man’s face, knife digging deeper into his face. “ _Where is it?_ ” 

“I don’t know! I don’t know, I don’t know!” Hyunwoo cries and you cross your arms.

“Bullshit,” Zsasz insists and his hand begins to etch the knife higher, drawing a red line as it moves. Like he aches to peel the skin off the man’s head. He’s more than willing to ignore Hernando del Rey’s orders to leave Hyunwoo alive.

You get up from leaning against the office desk and clutch the blood silver necklace around your neck.

“Zsasz, stop!” And, like clockwork, he’s motionless. Last night, after you escorted— or forced— the scarred man out of your apartment, you utilized the towels he plugged his wounds with to make a Blood Pendant. That has become your signature ‘weapon’ to the mainstream media. One drop off blood onto the pendant and you can order around the person it belongs to. 

You approach Hyunwoo and squat next to Victor who wears an expression of confusion.

“What the hell did you do?” He mutters in a raspy voice.

“Something I should’ve done the moment we got here.”

Hyunwoo winces when you grab onto his dyed blue hair and pull his face closer to yours. “Hernando gave _you_ the keys to his yacht. So, obviously, you know where you put it. And if you _lost_ them, I can’t promise that you’ll be put through any less pain than if we find out you’re lying.”

The man’s eyes dart to a shelf at the right end of the office. “Please, promise you I have no clue where they are. Look, my kids are still in the other room—” You drop his head before he could end his sentence. That’s all you needed to see.

Your reach for the pendant again, this time telling Zsasz to come on. Victor lets out a sigh of relief as his body returns to its normal mobility. You head to the shelf and Zsasz follows, though not before he plants a hard kick to the Korean man’s stomach. 

“Don’t ever do that shit again, do you fucking hear me? I don’t get controlled.” He whispers against your ear and you feel a shiver run its slow fingers down your spine.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You feign cluelessness. “I didn’t know there were statutes of morality between us now.” He grunts in response.

You bring your attention back to the large shelf. You face spines of books and nothing else. The titles not written in Hangul described statistics, business and other boring shit.

“The keys are somewhere here,” you say.

“How do you know?” 

You take a quick glimpse over your shoulder to make sure Hyunwoo is still on the floor, tied by his restraints. “He looked over here while I was talking to him, _duh_. Aren’t you supposed to be super smart?”

“ _Cum laude_ , baby girl.” Zsasz winks and you roll your eyes. You couldn’t care less about his Ivy League adventures. “And I was too busy dealing with _paralysis_ to notice.”

“Quit being a baby and look.” You power through hardbacks upon hardbacks, hoping you’d open one and the keys would fall out. Victor watches you do this with a little smile on his face. You turn over and bark “ _Start looking, asshole!_ ”

He laughs, but does what you say. After last night’s shenanigans, you were ready to get this deal over with. You’ve met with plenty of Wonder Woman’s rogues in the past, but none of them creeped you out the way these Gotham villains do, let alone Victor Zsasz. You could barely get a grasp of what was going on in his head. One second he wants to gut you, the next he’s gripping your thighs and reminding you of the time you two slept together. To top it all off, you still have no clue how he managed to get into your room.

Today has been no better. You’re wearing a tight turtleneck and skinny jeans, and you’ve caught him catching glances at your ass and breasts on plenty occasions. 

Victor pulls out a thick mystery novel from the bottom shelf and a shiny silver key slips out, clinking against the marble floor. 

His cheeks pull back as he grins, revealing his steel crowns. He picks it up and turns to face Hyunwoo who groans. 

“It looks like we got a little liar on our hands,” He mocks.

“Fuck, I’m sorry!” Hyunwoo cries as Zsasz saunters closer to him. “You guys said you couldn’t kill me!”

“I won’t kill you. I’m just gonna fuck you up bad enough that your kids will live with nightmares when they enter and see you.” He kneels closer to him and you shove your hands into your pockets.

“I’m gonna be in the car.”

~ ~ ~

It takes over an hour for Zsasz to finally come out of Hyunwoo’s mansion. His clothes are clean, the white ASOS sweater left unstained, but his hands are tinted pink and give you a clue of what he got done doing.

He opens the car door and slips into the driver seat. Victor drops del Rey’s key onto your lap and starts the car.

“Y’know, if we’re gonna be Gotham’s new dynamic duo, you’re gonna have to stop bossing me around,” he sounds cheerful, _giddy_ , as he speaks. Like a suburban husband talking to his housewife. 

You press your forehead against the window. “We’re not a damn team. And don’t you belong to somebody else? What was his name? Roman See-ah-nis, or something?”

Victor freezes. 

“Then Harley Quinn blew his ass up, right?” You look at him.

For the first time, you see pain in his eyes. His eyebrows scrunch up and his eyes go big— like a puppy dog. You struck a nerve. Good.

“Don’t say his name,” he orders.

“Don’t break into my apartment,” you counter.

His face shifts into that of anger. Unhinged anger. “I do whatever the _fuck_ I want. Do you hear me? You don’t tell me what to do. If I want to break into your ugly ass apartment, I will. If I want to kill a man, I will. You are not in control. _I don’t need you._ You need me—” 

He’s cut off when the bolt of a crossbow stabs into the front window of his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eye am not ded


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okookokoko im sososos srry that this took so long. i do have a reason and its mostly school, but after the semester ended the blm movement started up again, and as a black woman i became really unmotivated to do anything that wasnt worry over the protesters and my people's lives. that being said, in the next chapter yall are getting ur back blown out so i hope that makes you guys happy.

“Holy shit!” You yell the minute the quarrel crashes into he window. It lands only inches away from your face, too short to reach it. And whoever shot the arrow knows that. They aren’t trying to kill you. They only want your attention. **  
**

“Since when did Hyunwoo have shooters?” You ask. For the most part, you know Hyunwoo was a very independent person when it came to the shady business he dabbled in. He was never the type to have any guard dogs.

Victor shakes his head, forcing his car door open at a frantic speed. “They’re not with him.” 

You narrow your eyes, searching for anything in the distance. There’s a flash of purple within the trees next to Hyunwoo’s house and you look over to Zsasz. He’s standing in the open, a grim look on his face.

“Zsasz, get back in the fucking car before you get shot in the forehead!” You bark your order. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he replies and you sigh in annoyance, slamming your head back into your seat’s headrest. Dealing with him was like dealing with a four year old. You reach into your pocket for the Blood Pendant. If he won’t do what you say voluntarily, you’ll just have to force him. But, when you dig through the fabric, you realize it’s gone.

You glance toward him and see the silver chain hanging out of the back pocket of his cargo pants. That sneaky asshole. You didn’t even notice when he managed to snag it off you.

“Victor Zsasz!” A feminine voice calls out. It echoes around you and you have no clue where to look. You slip out of the car, mentally readying yourself for any of the spells you can conjure. 

Zsasz looks even angrier now, his face is painted red with fury. 

“Get back in the car!” You try to advise him. You have no clue why you’re so concerned with his safety.

“No, I want to kill these bitches by myself.” He pulls his token knife from his pocket, the one you’ve seen referenced all over the news with his murders.

As he toys with the sharp edge of the blade, you sigh. “No offense, but I don’t think your tiny ass knife stands a chance against a bitch with a crossbow.”

Behind you two, there is a soft crunch of leaves as someone takes a step closer. Like partners in a waltz, you and Victor whirl around. His grip on the knife’s handle grows tighter and you can feel your power tingling at your fingertips.

“Hi, Zsasz.” The two of you face a young black woman, her blonde hair styled in loose locs. You can’t help but notice how pretty she is, despite the cocky grin on her face indicating she wouldn’t hesitate knocking the both of you out cold. “Since when did you start working with the Night Hex?”

“We’re not working together,” You shoot back. “Which is why I think it’s in our best interest that I leave, and let you two hash it out.” You begin to take a step back, ready to bolt out of sigh, when you feel a cold metal against your neck. It’s something sharp, and you hiss as it slightly stabs into your skin.

“Yeah I don’t think so,” A feminine voice behind you says. You look over your shoulder and see her standing there with a crossbow in her hand. She nudges the crossbow closer to your face and you flinch back. “Consider yourself guilty by association.”

Another woman approaches you and you roll your eyes. “God, there’s more of you?” 

“Yes. And it looks like you guys are outnumbered.” She mocks you, her inner-city accent evident.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fucking fuck. These are those Birds of Prey chicks aren’t they? And you remember hearing somebody say they had something to do with Roman Sionis’s death. That’s why Victor looks so pissed. 

This isn’t fair. You came to Gotham to relax, and stir away from any of those fuckers in spandex that swear they’re vigilanties. But of course the second you decide to make some hard-earned money, you suddenly have these little birds on your ass. 

The one with the crossbow sidewalks to stand in front of the pair of you and turns slightly to aim the weapon at Zsasz. “You’re supposed to be dead,” she tells him flatly. The other two birds step back, seemingly to let her at him. Your mind flashes back to the ugly scar on Victor’s neck. It’s shaped perfectly for a crossbow. Whatever Victor had with these women, it seems to be about more than just his dead boyfriend. “You’re supposed to be dead, like the rest of those sons of bitches,” she insists. Her voice cracks as she says this, and her eyes grow wet.

“And yet, I’m not.” Zsasz practically growls. The words came from deep within his chest. His rough hands twirl the knife between his fingers, anticipating what is to come.

The air is thick with tension, and you are standing in the midst of it all. Times like this are when you especially become grateful for your witchcraft. 

A beat passes before Zsasz lashes. He raises the knife, aiming for her face. It’s almost like time slows down for you as you notice the woman’s finger reach for the trigger. You rush to latch onto Victor’s empty hand and close your eyes, picturing your small apartment in as vivid detail as possible. You whisper in Hebrew a teleportation spell you learned in Israel that translates to “Bring me there.” 

It hardly ever works. Time after time you’ve tried to disappear mid-fight with Wonder Woman, only for you to remain where you are and get her fist in your face. The fact that you’re trying to do it with two people is insane, and you would’ve called yourself an idiot for even considering it any other time. However, for some odd reason, you can’t fathom this encounter ending with a bow down Victor’s throat.

You’re not sure if you managed it or not until you hear Victor mutter “What the fuck?” and you hear the hum from your studio’s A/C kicking on. You let out an audible sigh of relief and let go of Zsasz’s hand. Your moment of relaxation is cut short when he shoves his hard hands against your shoulders, causing you to stumble back. Out of instinct, you step forward and swing your fist at him, but he ducks back.

“What the fuck did you do!?” He yells so loud that you’re sure the entire floor hears him. “I was going to fucking kill her! Are you stupid?” 

It takes you a minute to process his words. You just saved his life and he has the nerve to be mad at you? “Are you stupid?” You echo, your voice even louder than his. “She was holding a fucking crossbow, dumbass! She would have killed you long before you could even lay a hand on her! You should be thanking me, you piece of shit!” 

He brings his knife to your neck and you clench your teeth, expecting him to bark some new insults your way. Instead, he swallows down and digs his hand into your pocket to take out the keys. “I’m taking these to Hernando myself. Do whatever the fuck you want.” And with that, he turns to the door to leave.

But you’re not going to let this argument go down so easily. With his back now turned to you, you push him, and he stumbles a bit. “And when you’re done with that, leave me the fuck alone! Stay as far away from me as possible, and deal with the bounty the Birds of Prey have on you by yourself!”

He stares at you from over his shoulder as you wait for an answer. Adrenaline rushes through your veins as you hype yourself up for a fight with him, but Zsasz already looks like he’s calmed down. “Go drink some water, you look like you’re gonna pop a vein.” And then he turns and leaves. 

Your face twists as your door slams shuts, the million words you wanted to throw at him still tingling at your tongue.

~~~

Hot water hits your back and you yawn. It took you an hour to finally calm down, but when you did you ordered some pizza and watched TV for the rest of the day. You aren’t too sure how long Hernando wants you to work on this expedition with him, but when it’s all over you’ve decided you're ditching Gotham. 

The first few months here have been peaceful, sure, but too many dangerous people know that you’re here. Your little vacation spot has been ruined. So, you’ll probably head somewhere else, like Orlando or Los Angeles. Maybe you’d move to a small town without any crime-fighting heroes, and live out your Hallmark-movie romantic fantasy after all. 

Whichever it’ll be, you’re sure it’s not anywhere near this city. Or Boston, either. 

You scrub your body with a soapy loofah to make sure all the dirt is off your body. After a few more minutes you finally turn the water off and pull a towel over your body. Something about Victor Zsasz drains the energy out of you. After all your encounters with him, you remember always feeling beyond tired by the end of it. 

Whatever it is, it’ll be gone once you leave Gotham.

You lotion yourself and apply your facial creams, pulling on your panties and an oversized shirt you sleep in in the process, all before slipping into your bedroom. 

Your room is oddly quiet, the hum of the TV you normally keep on muted and your fan turned off. You flip on the light switch and freeze at the sight before you.

Victor Zsasz waits for you at the end of your bed. The sheets are stained with blood and you can practically smell the reek of death coming from him. He looks at you with those fake innocent eyes as he says a soft, “Hey.” 


End file.
